High School Hell
by A Study in Reichenbach Feels
Summary: High School AU. Sherlock is daily bullied and beaten. He maintains a fresh hatred and despise towards his classmates, gaining no friends until a new boy, John Watson, comes to the school. Together, they share the ups and downs of the most dreaded years of their lives.
1. New Boy

**A/N: I don't know a lot about the UK education system. Sorry if there is anything incorrect! Woodside High School is an actual school in London. I only looked it up for a name, so, again, sorry if things about the school incorrect.**

* * *

"Wow, what a freak!" Teenage mocking echoed down the halls of Woodside High School. The teachers, of course, stood by with that unwavering talent to purposefully overlook the important things, which Sherlock Holmes pointed out to them frequently. Perhaps that was part of the reason why they did nothing. No one came to Sherlock's rescue. They all just stood in the distance, their cold, hateful neutrality adding to the pain he endured day after day.

Mycroft wasn't there to defend his little brother anymore, he had long graduated and was off to some University. Sherlock hadn't paid attention to which one he had left for, but it would be his third year at the University by now. Sherlock was only a Year Ten in high school.

Greg Lestrade was sometimes near Sherlock while he was being beaten, and would come over and try to convince the bullies to stop. They, in turn, would throw a punch or two at him. Greg would then lay low until the harassers were satisfied and, when they had left, offer Sherlock a hand with his scattered belongings. Sherlock was hesitant in accepting the offer of help, but was grateful for _someone_ trying to intervene.

_It's the best it will ever get, _Sherlock thought to himself as he lie curled up on the cold, tile floor. At least he sort of had a friend. At this point, anyone who stood up for Sherlock in the slightest was considered…well, not an enemy. Acquaintance, he supposed, was a more appropriate word. Sherlock would sometimes nod at Greg in the halls, silently thanking him for the risks he would take once in a while in attempts to save him. This was as close as Sherlock believed he would get to friendship. It was good enough for him. At least, before he met John.

* * *

"Alright, students!" Mrs. Hudson stood in the front of the room, trying to get the rowdy teens' attention. With no luck, it would seem. She sighed and looked down at the rather short boy whose shoulder she rested her hand on. "It's ghastly, this class, isn't it?" The boy nodded shyly and kept his head down.

Sherlock watched his boisterous classmates with a hateful scowl from the back of the class. He had taken the liberty of moving his desk a few feet away from all the others surrounding him. It almost seemed like he believed there was an infectious disease among his despicable associates.

Sherlock kept a keen eye on the new face in the front of the room, though it was mostly hidden. The short boy embraced by Mrs. Hudson's arm had stared only at the ground since he had arrived in class. Shame? No, his lips weren't tucked in. Nervous? Most likely. His right foot dancing slowly on the dirty tile below it only reinforced this note. His cheeks were flushed a light pink. Embarrassment? No, that was still the nervousness… Sherlock observed the new boy's eyebrow. …and anger? Why would he be angry? Did someone pick on him already? Sherlock's eyes moved towards his hands. On one side was a clenched fist, the other futzed continuously with itself. Sherlock finally nodded in conclusion. The new boy didn't want to be here, and for more reasons than it being a new school.

* * *

"Hey, be quiet, Mrs. Hudson's trying to talk!" Anderson shouted.

"Shut yer trap, Andy!" a girl in the middle of the room mocked. Anderson looked with his jaw dropped at the girl. "Don't gimme that look, yer a suck up n' you know it-"

"Am not!" Andy retorted.

"Are too!" the girl chuckled like most girls do when they're in a fake fight with their boyfriends.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am n-"

"Hannah, Anderson is cheating on you." Sherlock interjected loudly. The entire class turned to the skinny boy in the back corner of the room who was still wearing his winter coat, like always. His bold statement even caught the ear of the boy in the front of the room; he raised his head up to see what was going on.

Anderson tried to cover himself. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"Ask Anderson where he was last night, Hannah." Hannah looked questioningly at Sherlock, then at Anderson.

"Andy…" She said slowly.

"This is ridiculous!" Anderson's voice became agitated.

"Or, if he doesn't remember, just ask Sally Donovan." Sherlock concluded. Hannah shot evil looks at her boyfriend.

"You _were_ going to her house, I _knew _it!" she spit out.

"Hannah, he's lying. Come on, you don't honestly believe him, do you?"

Sherlock interrupted their argument to add to the chaos, "If you don't believe me, believe the smudge of blue mascara on his shoulder." He looked sarcastically toward the soon-to-be-broken-up-couple, "We all know who only uses blue mascara in this school, don't we?"

* * *

The classroom erupted in bickering, and Sherlock slunk back into his seat, ready to observe the madness he had created with one simple observation. He caught the new boy's eyes. The boy was holding back a laugh, his amusement barely containable. Sherlock smiled deviously and closed his eyes. If he couldn't get them back for his pain physically, the least he could do is call them out on their not-so-well-hidden secrets. They were fairly easy to call out. They seemed obvious to him. Apparently they weren't so obvious to anyone else, and that's what made him the freak.

"That's enough!" Mrs. Hudson raised her voice with a motherly tone. The class hushed immediately. The boy quickly lowered his head. Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat and uttered a quiet apology for yelling. "Will you take your seats, please?" They obeyed.

"Now," she returned to her soft, calming voice. "As I was trying to say, we have a new student today. Everyone meet John Watson. Go on, say hello."

"Hello, John." The class uttered in dull unison. John didn't look up. He only breathed relatively faster and tapped his foot a bit more quickly. No one else seemed to notice, but Sherlock kept watching every move John made with a glimmer of admiration in his eyes.

"We're only a few weeks in, so it shouldn't be too hard for him to catch up if you all help him out. Make him feel welcome here." The class nodded without interest.

* * *

"There's an open desk right there, John. Go and have a seat." Mrs. Hudson smiled at the quiet blonde boy. John moved through the columns of desks towards the back of the room. He ignored the stares he knew he was getting from all across the room and didn't make eye contact with anyone. John finally settled into the desk next to Sherlock's. Although, it wasn't quite beside him, seeing how Sherlock had separated himself from the rest of the class.

John glanced over at Sherlock a few times before Mrs. Hudson got into her English lesson. When she was far into the lesson, too far to notice any exchange between students, she was so enthusiastic, John scribbled on a piece of paper and tossed the folded note to Sherlock. Sherlock curiously unraveled the paper and read it.

_That was fantastic._

Sherlock assumed John was referring to the sarcastic rouse a minute ago. Sherlock took out his own pen and jotted a response. This went on for about a minute before the bell rang for the next period.

_It seemed the fastest way to get them to shut up._

_It worked amazingly. _

_I can't stand those kinds of couples._

_Me either. Repulsive._

_Obviously._

After reading the last of the note, John looked back and smiled. Sherlock smiled back.

* * *

**This is my first High School AU, so please be gentle :3 Thanks for reading! Much more to come**


	2. Lunchroom

"What was it again your mom does?" John asked Sherlock, sitting at a table in the cafeteria. Only early that morning they had met. Well, they exchanged glances and a note. Not officially meeting, per say, but that was good enough for both of them. They were glad to have someone to talk to during their lunch hour.

"She's a cop." Sherlock Holmes replied.

"Oh, wow! She works at Scotland Yard, then?"

"Yeah."

"That's interesting. Do you ever get to go there and see what she does?" John poked at the gruesome-looking hunk of meat on his tray, questioning if that's what it really was.

"I go there every day after school…"

"Really? I've always wanted to see that place…"

"It gets boring fairly quickly."

"Ah…" John looked down in disappointment. It seemed to John that Sherlock wasn't used to talking to people very often. Normally, people would have taken the hints right away. But he wasn't going to invite himself, they had known each other for less than a day.

Sherlock caught onto his air of discontent. "Something wrong?"

"Hm? No, not really." John prodded at the supposed mashed potatoes. Sherlock observed his pursed lips as he continued to play at his food, still not having eaten any of it.

"You really should eat something, John," Sherlock said. John kept his eyes glued to the slop on his cafeteria tray. "I know it looks terrible, but it's better than nothing, right?"

"Not really," John mumbled. "Besides, you didn't grab anything to eat."

"Not hungry," Sherlock answered swiftly, then reversed the focus off himself. "You need to have something in your stomach, or you'll soon become _fed up_ with the people in this place." Sherlock smiled smugly at his choice of words.

"That was really bad," John said with a smile.

"You're smiling, so it couldn't have been that bad."

* * *

John looked up at his new friend. _Sherlock is nice enough_, John wondered, _Why aren't his other friends sitting with him?_ John looked throughout the lunchroom. Between the circular and rectangular tables, they were all packed full of students, years ten and eleven. It was a crowded cafeteria, but there was one table with almost no one at it. Sherlock and John sat across from each other on the end of the otherwise lonely lunch table.

"Say," John emerged, "Why is there no one else at this table? Is it because I'm new, or…"

"No, I just don't have friends." Sherlock said in an indifferent tone.

John pushed on, "Even if that's true, people would still sit here, it's an awfully crowded lunch hour…"

"I didn't say I don't have enemies," Sherlock spoke with a slight pride at the statement.

"Wait, you're saying no one sits here because-"

"They hate me." Sherlock half smiled.

"Why?" John asked, frustrated. Sherlock seemed as good of a person as anyone else he had encountered, if not better. And, in John's mind, he was probably better.

Sherlock shrugged. "I suppose it's because I'm intelligent."

"Rubbish, why would anyone despise you for the sole reason that you're smarter than them?"

"Not just academically. I observe."

"I'm sure they can observe, too."

"No, you don't understand. They do see, they do not observe. There are simple details in basically anything can present you with a usually correct story of one's whole day or even week."

"What are you saying? Are you going to be a detective or something?" John joked. Sherlock smiled, pleased with the rare compliment.

"Someday, yes." Sherlock's voice became quiet and he stared across the lunchroom into nothingness. John took the chance to observe Sherlock more closely than he could before. He had bright blue-green eyes, the only part of him that wasn't shrouded in black. Sherlock wore a dark T-shirt with some kind of graphic design on it. John couldn't tell what it was exactly because his long winter coat crossed over it and buttoned in the middle of his torso. _Why does he wear that thing inside?_ John thought to himself, but decided it was better not to ask.

* * *

"So, John-it is John right?" Sherlock broke the silence. John glared at Sherlock, who winked at him. "Just making sure. Well, John, do you-maybe…" he fumbled with his thoughts. "-Would you like to come to Scotland Yard with me after school one day?"

"That would be great!" John replied, surprised that Sherlock had caught on.

Sherlock nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Okay-" Sherlock was cut off by a solid punch from the isle.

John jumped up in anger. "What the bloody _hell_ was that for?!" he yelled. Sherlock held his hand to his cheek and turned to address his abuser.

"Yes, Anderson?" Sherlock's lip was starting to bleed. Anderson had a fiery rage in his eyes as he towered ominously over Sherlock.

"You're going to _pay_ for what you did," Anderson hissed.

"Which was what exactly?" Sherlock asked.

"Thanks to you, Hannah broke up with me. _She _broke up with _me_! I'm a joke for the whole school-"

"Welcome to the club," Sherlock smirked. John glanced at Sherlock, sensing the hidden pain behind those words. Anderson grabbed onto Sherlock's collar and lifted him to his feet.

"I am _nothing_ like you!" Anderson spat the words out like they were too bitter to keep in his mouth.

* * *

"You were planning to break it off anyways, weren't you?" Sherlock replied calmly. Anderson narrowed his gaze, but soon showed only anger on his face. He shook Sherlock within his tight grasp.

"Stop it. Whatever trick it is you're playing, stop it right now."

"You're happy it's over?" Sherlock asked, the look he got confirming his idea. "Oh, I see. You wanted to end it with Hannah. To humiliate her. You're only angry because, instead, a fool was made out of you."

"Shut up!" Anderson screeched fiercely in Sherlock's face. In one swift motion, Anderson lifted his captive even higher and hurled him at the floor beside the table. Sherlock hit the floor hard.

"Hey!" John shoved Anderson before he could carry out the rest of his plans for Sherlock. Anderson turned and faced the new boy.

"What, did I do something wrong?" Anderson mocked.

"Wrong? You just threw him at the ground! By my mother's blood, if he is hurt-"

Sherlock warned weakly, "John, don't-"

John tried to join Sherlock at his side, but Anderson stopped him, giving John a firm shove that nearly made him topple backwards from the impact. John flashed a hateful glare at Anderson. A crowd was starting to form around the three now.

"What's this, you have a dog at your heels now?" Anderson teased Sherlock, one arm still blocking John from him. Sherlock slowly stood to face Anderson. He held his left hand at his ribs, accounting for the pain in them. Sherlock clenched his right hand into a fist and glared at Anderson.

* * *

"Well, go on, do it." Sherlock edged him on with a smirk. "Or are you afraid you'll look like a fool again?" Sherlock's words got to his opponent, and Anderson plunged his fist into Sherlock's nose, knocking him to the ground. The crowd now surrounding them gave an approving cheer. Anderson leaped on top of Sherlock and began throwing punches. Sherlock stayed motionless, save for the impacts of the blows.

_Why isn't he fighting back?! _John was no longer restrained and, without a second thought, flung himself onto Anderson. Together, they toppled off of Sherlock, who sat up in amazement. Sweet and shy John Watson, or so he seemed, had quite the rage in him.

Disregarding his size, John knew his way around a fight. In only a few blows, Anderson's face was bloodied and bruised. He tried to escape John's furious strikes, but he couldn't seem to break loose of John's skillful pin. The entire lunchroom was horded around the sight, yelling and cheering for whoever's side they were on. Sherlock watched in awe. He only had a sore chin and ribs and a bloody nose. This was nothing compared to Anderson's fully red face. It seemed as if Anderson had stopped struggling.

Sherlock stared at John. Only a minute ago he was bashful and sensitive. The new kid everyone was looking at didn't come close to their original judgments of him. He seemed in a daze of determination, unwilling to stop the torrent of injuries any time soon.

* * *

Administration officers blew their whistles violently and pushed their way through the entertained students. One of the staff members slid his arms through John's at the elbow and pinned them behind his back. The swarms soon dispersed, leaving the scene of the fight clearly visible.

Anderson lie motionless on the cafeteria floor, blood splotches here and there around his head. One of the officers felt for a pulse.

"We're going to need a stretcher to bring him to the nurse." Another officer nodded and requested what was asked on the headset. The officer refraining John looked over the scene. He noticed Sherlock curled up at the foot of the table nearest the fight, a small trickle of blood coming from his nose.

"What happened?" he asked John. John gave no answer, only breathed heavily, an angry flicker still in his eyes. After a moment, the officer directed the same question at the skinny boy in black. Sherlock broke his stare from Anderson's unconscious body and gazed at John, then the officer holding him. He answered slowly, like he didn't even believe his own answer.

"He saved me."

* * *

**Sherlock makes a bad pun trying to make John laugh ^/^ **

**Hope you liked this chapter, feel free to follow and review X3**


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